


Where Your Gentle Wing Abides

by Lacrimula_Falsa



Series: Assorted Fandom Events Fics [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Stony Loves Steve 2019, Stony loves Steve, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 19:17:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19470433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacrimula_Falsa/pseuds/Lacrimula_Falsa
Summary: Steve gets injured in battle and suddenly he has wings. That'd throw anyone for a loop. [Written for Stony Loves Steve 2019. AU, complete.]





	1. Critical Hit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DepressingGreenie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepressingGreenie/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe or any other Marvel franchise. I wrote this as a gift for a fandom event, not to make a profit.
> 
>  _A/N:_ This is my **Stony Loves Steve gift for _DepressingGreenie_**. It is incredibly and unbelievably late because I experienced snowballing posting troubles right out of a comedy. I combined several of my giftee's short prompts, which I have listed in the endnotes.
> 
> Title from the line “All people become brothers,/ Where your gentle wing abides.” from the poem _Ode To Joy_ by Friedrich Schiller
> 
> Set in some nebulous MCU-based AU where I ignore the parts of canon I don't like or don't remember well, so not canon-compliant. No _Avengers: Endgame_ spoilers or content. Not beta-read.
> 
>  **Warnings!:** _Non-consensual body modification_.
> 
> To my giftee: I really wanted to do fill your plot prompt about Steve turning into a vampire but it turned out...not so great so I wrote this instead. I hope you enjoy it and that I did your awesome prompts justice. I would also like to offer a sincere apology for this being so late. I am so sorry. Nothing I say is going to make this less late but it deserves to be said.
> 
> Onward to the fic! Enjoy. :)

[Steve]

“Cap, on your six!”

Steve turned around, swinging his shield into the face of the...whatever he was.

“Why do these guys have wings? That's definitely copyright infringement.”

Steve tried not to smile at Sam's quip. If the press got a picture of him smiling in battle there'd be headlines in the vein of “Bloodthirsty Avengers Trash Manhattan” again.

That thought promptly destroyed any chance of a smile. He hated the future sometimes.

“Cap! Watch out! Are you dreaming?!”

_Shit._

Steve brought his shield up just in time to dodge a blow by one of the winged...men. A moment later Iron Man repulsored the - he was going to go with "man" for now - in the face, which effectively knocked him out.

_And there's the reason I love the future most of the time._

“Thanks, Iron Man.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don't mention i- Ow! Jacked-up winged bastards! What do you even- Get off!”

  
Seeing that his husband was doing fine shaking the winged attackers off his metaphorical tail, Steve left Tony to it and started towards the source of their troubles again.

If he could destroy the, well, "thing" was the most accurate description he could come up with at the moment, these people used to create the portals that most of them had come through, this attack would be a lot easier to fight off.

He'd almost reached the pedestal with the thing on it when one of the winged men charged towards him, holding a very large sword.

Steve batted it out of the man's hands with his shield.

The man blinked.

“You are strong.”

Steve bared his teeth.

“Yes. And you're in the way.”

He swung the shield again, down in an arc hoping to catch the man's head with the edge.

The man caught the shield and kneed Steve in the stomach.

_Shit. This one's fast._

Steve feinted, then hit the man in the side.

They grappled for a few moments, strangely untouched by the rest of the chaos.

“STEVE!”

Fiery pain erupted all over Steve's back. The winged man used the distraction it provided to hit Steve hard with a kick to the knee and drop him.

The next thing Steve knew, his back hit the asphalt and the new wave of agony turned everything he saw into a field of static before he was swallowed by blackness.

* * *

“-eve. Honey? Hey, you're awake.”

Steve laboriously blinked his eyes open to the sight of a pillow and the sound of Tony's voice.

“Wha-”

“You got hit during the battle. We're in the hospital.”

Steve frowned into the white bedding.

“Did I pass out? Why am I on my front?”

A hand swiped his fringe out of his face, easily recognisable as Tony's by the distinct smell of metal and the calluses.

“You got hit. With one of those glowing staffs the Angel Brigade had. That knocked you out for a long while.”

Steve frowned.

“Didn't we see these weapons vaporize solid metal?”

“Yes. And later, people. Supersoldier serum to the rescue again is our current hypothesis. Bless the all-American super juice."

There was a note of strain to Tony's voice. One that was different from the usual “there was a battle and my husband is in the hospital” tone he'd heard from Tony before.

“That bad?”

“What?”  


“My back. Is it that bad? You sound...”

Steve trailed off. Finally, he settled on

“Scared. You sound scared.”

Tony took his hand. There was a squeaky sound that was probably Tony getting a chair. Lying on his front with his face squashed into a pillow as he was, Steve could only see part of Tony's hip in the armour undersuit, not that that was a bad view.

“Steve, how do you feel?”

Steve experimentally twitched his toes.

“Sort of numb. I can't feel my back at all. Wait. Does that mean there's finally painkillers that work on me!? Because that'd be real-”

Tony's hitching sob cut him off.

“Tony?”

Tony audibly held his breath in an effort not to give away that he was crying. Dread crept into Steve's gut, settling there like bad army rations and murky water.

“Tony. What is it? Is my back that bad?”

“It's not your back, honey, it's...” Tony's fingers tightened around his hand. “When the serum healed the damage to your spine and back muscles it seemed to...to... _burn out_. It's not there anymore.”

The words didn't make sense in Steve's head. They just fell into his skull like marbles into a jar, without any information making it into his brain.

“What do you mean ' _it's not there anymore_ '?”

His own voice sounded strangely flat. Tony's was tremulous when he answered.

“The damage to your spine, it was- It couldn't- When the serum healed your back it was like that...used it up. Like your enhancements just...tapered off. Your back is healed, it's... _normal_ but...”

Tony let go of Steve's hand, putting his fingers to Steve's cheek instead.

“...so are you now. You're not a supersoldier any more.”

The word-marbles were still rolling around his skull. It took a while until one connected with a part of his brain that wasn't drowning in static and knocked a few words loose.

“Well, Bucky did once ask if it was permanent and I said 'so far'."

Tony's laugh was strangled, but real. It made something in Steve's chest unclench.

“Well good news is; painkillers work on you now. Fair warning though... your back is mostly healed but the skin is...well. You'll probably get the back to my front, is what I'm saying.”

“My back to your front? That doesn't sound like a bad thing.”

Tony huffed in reluctant amusement.

“Okay, Captain Innuendo, so noted.” His tone sobered. “But seriously. The doctors told me...well. The scarring is probably going to be extensive. If you really do heal normally now.”

Steve sighed, feeling unbearably tired all of a sudden.

“Yeah well. I can live with a few scars. Still got my pretty face to keep the husband interested.”

Tony's fingers fell away from his face.

“That's not what your husband is worried about right now.”

Steve wanted to reach out and touch Tony to erase the hurt in his voice. He didn't quite manage, his rubbery limbs refusing to cooperate. Instead of reaching Tony his hand just smacked painfully into the bedframe when his arm gave out.

Tony put his hand back on the bed.

Silence hung in the room for a few minutes while Steve drifted, still feeling strangely disconnected from the whole situation, not quite awake. That was probably the painkillers. That worked on him. For the first time in decades. Well. Years, if you counted only the time he'd actually experienced.

Suddenly a thought struck Steve.

“What do I look like? Now?”

Tony shifted in the creaky chair.

“Pale. I'd say 'like death warmed over' but I don't want to tempt fate there.”

There was the sound of Tony actually knocking on...well what was probably not a real wood table but the gesture was so un-Tony-like that it gave Steve pause.

Shoving down the worry about that for the moment, Steve soldiered (hah!) on.

“No, I mean... Now that the serum is gone. Am I small again?"

There was such a long pause that Steve briefly entertained the idea that Tony might have actually run away from the question.

“No. Yes. You're smaller.”

“Wow thank you, Tony, that was very precise.”

Tony made a harsh sound.

“What do you want me to say? You still look like you. Mostly you've just lost the demi-god muscles. And like one or two centimetres.”

Steve frowned.

_That's not so bad._

“Anything else? I mean uh-”

Panic clogged his throat.

He couldn't say it. Couldn't make himself say the words.

_Am I sick again?_

He didn't want to know. Not yet.

Sadly, Tony wasn't a mind-reader, and Wanda wasn't in the room.

“You're healthy. Well, mostly. They think your asthma might be back. But the, ah, the other things, your crooked spine and your heart murmur and all that. That's still gone.”

There was the knocking sound again. Steve didn't like it. Didn't like the thought of a Tony Stark driven to superstition.

“That's good.”

Steve sounded like a liar to his own ears, even though he meant it.

Tony pushed a second pillow under his head, probably noticing his struggle to look at anything that wasn't the bed. His brown eyes were filled with worry.

“Yeah. They say you can go home tomorrow. If nothing changes.”

Later Steve would laugh at these words. At the moment, he just crossed his fingers, murmured something to Tony about getting some rest and allowed himself to fall asleep again.


	2. Stats Change

[Tony]

For a long while after Steve fell back asleep Tony had just watched him, taking comfort in the rise and fall of his no longer quite so broad chest.

He must have nodded off despite the uncomfortable chair eventually. And woke to absolute pandemonium.

“Restrain him! Somebody get me a tranquillizer! He's injuring himself! Security! Security to room three-fifteen! Damn it! Security! Nurse!”

  
“What are those!? What are those!? Get them off! What's happening to me!?”

It took him a moment to parse the situation, everything resolving from a tangle of fabric and limbs into the sight of Steve struggling to escape the hold of three people in white coats, limbs tangled in the bedsheets. A pillow must have become collateral damage because there were feathers flying everywhere.

“Steve! Fuck, Steve, calm down!”

Tony jumped out of the chair, trying to muscle past everyone's arms to get to his flailing husband while simultaneously trying to catch Steve's terrified blue eyes.

“Steve! Steve, it's okay! Whatever it is, I can help, okay? Just calm down!”

He wasn't sure Steve if heard him over the din of the monitors beeping their hearts out and the doctor still shouting for security.

Somebody's elbow hit him in the gut.

Tony stumbled backwards just as Natasha darted forward and jammed a needle into Steve.

Tony was still blinking at the whole tableau when Steve's struggling weakened and finally stilled, his body sagging onto the bed.

“Thanks.”

She pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“Any time.”

“What the hell has gotten in-”

Tony looked back to the bed at the choked sound the doctor made. And nearly choked on air himself.

Lying on the bed was Steve, surrounded by a tangle of sheets and feathers. But that wasn't the surreal thing in this situation.

Stretching out from Steve's back where a pair of white-and-grey, twitching wings.

* * *

[Steve]

He'd honestly just blanked on the whole thing.

Steve remembered very little from when he'd woken up in the hospital for the second time, except for lots of shouting and someone (he'd later learned that that had been Natasha) jamming a needle into his thigh. Probably from shock.

Before that, he only remembered touching the smooth skin of his back and – for the few seconds before his fingertips touched feathers – thinking that maybe the serum had completely healed him after all, or that the whole thing with his back had just been a bad dream.

The left wing twitched in his peripheral vision. He could feel the corresponding movement in his shoulder.

Wings. He had bloody wings sticking out his formerly ruined back.

He felt like worms were squirming around in his gut, with a lovely side-act of ants running up and down his spine. He shuddered.

They were so... _alien_.

Even after getting injected with dubious chemicals, being fried inside a metal box and suddenly gaining the ability to lift a motorcycle with a USO girl on it, he hadn't felt like this. Like his body didn't belong to him anymore.

He'd never quite understood what Tony meant when he said that the arc reactor in his chest sometimes felt violating.

Steve eyed the bucket next to the bed. He was honestly not sure if there was even anything to throw up in his stomach at this point, but he felt nauseous anyway.

“Hey. Whoa. Those are huge.”

Steve felt the wings droop and partially fold behind his back, a sensation eerily close to bending his elbows downwards, only in limbs he wasn't supposed to have.

Clint grimaced.

“Wow, judging by your expression those aren't fun.”

“Where's Tony?”

Every other time, Steve would feel bad for being rude and chide himself for sounding so whiny, but at the moment he couldn't quite muster the energy to do either.

He just wanted his husband to hug him. And for someone to cut these things off his back, if that was what it took to get rid of them.

Clint plopped down into one of the squeaky chairs.

“Puking his guts up in the bathroom. I haven't, you know, _asked_ , but I think non-consensual body modification doesn't exactly sit well with him.”

A frisson of concern wound its way around the anxiety churning in Steve's belly.

“Is he al- No forget I asked. That's stupid.”

Clint shrugged.

“I think he's doing okay, considering. Well. He's doing better than you, from what I heard. You done throwing things or should I prepare to dodge?”

Steve consciously relaxed his hands in an effort not to dent the bedframe. Then he remembered that he probably couldn't do that anymore.

“I didn't throw it at the doctor. I was just- I didn't see him.”  


“He's fine, thanks for not asking. Though I get it, man, this is a rough deal. I'm just saying. When I gained a tail last month? Not nearly as much drama.”

Steve glared at Clint.

“That was for an hour and you picked the damn tail!”

The affected jovial grin slid off Clint's face. He put his hands up in a defensive gesture.

“Hey okay, whoa. I'm not trying to make fun of you. I mean, I am. But only because that's how I deal with crap I can't understand. Like how Thor's hammer works, mind-control or if Tony actually built something into the toaster to piss me off or if I'm just too dumb to use it. Oh, come on, not even a smile? Everyone loves the damn toaster stories!"

Steve put his head in his hands.

“Points for effort. Just...can everyone who isn't Tony leave me alone? The doctors already told me that they're not going to cut them off so I'd appreciate it if everyone would just piss off until I'm not angry anymore.”

“Cut them off?” Clint sounded disapproving. “That's a little extreme, ain't it?”

“Well, what the fuck else am I supposed to do, huh!? Run around like a freak show?! Oh look, it's Captain Bird, off to save America!"

Clint actually physically recoiled, which probably implied things about Steve's current expression that he ought to find concerning, but anger and panic were beginning to seriously obstruct his rational thinking.

“Steve. Uh. I don't know if anyone told you this and I don't exactly fancy risking my neck here but, ah. You know you're off the team right now, right? I mean, serum's not back, far as they can tell and. Well. The other thing, too. We voted you out 'till that's all...yeah. Majority vote. I'm sorry.”

_This is_ not _Clint's fault. Don't you go yelling at your friends like a lunatic, Rogers._

Steve did his best to unclench his jaw.

“I figured. Yesterday. That...with the serum. Rhodes can probably join the team for a bit, yeah? Fill in for me or...something. Or maybe the other guy, uh, with the red costume?”

“Daredevil,” Clint supplied.

“Right. He's in Hell's Kitchen mostly but. You know. He sort of owes me. So. In an emergency.”

“Don't worry about that, okay? Take the team leader mantle off your...shoulders... for a few. Well. Right now and let us handle it.”

Steve felt tears prick at his eyes. He didn't even know why.

Well. Except for the fact that Clint couldn't even say “a few days” or “a few weeks” because nobody bloody knew, did they? Nobody could say how long Steve would have to spend looking like a fucking cartoon angel.

The right wing flapped a few times, creating a gust of wind in the otherwise stuffy room. Steve tried really hard to pretend Clint wasn't staring at it.

To be fair to Clint, if Steve hadn't had to twist his neck something awful to see he'd also be staring at it, most likely.

Clint cleared his throat.

“I'm not helping awfully much, am I?”

Steve did his best to become one with the bedding.

“I really want Tony.”

It sounded stupid, to say that. He was a grown man and really had no business sounding like a child asking for their nanny. It made him feel weak, to be so dependent on another person. Small. But it just hurt, all this panic clawing at his gut and he just wanted to Tony to hug him and tell him everything would be okay, damn it!

He suddenly missed his mother like he hadn't in years, not the dull throb of old loss but a fresher, sharper sting like something had been cut out from under his ribs.

Sarah would have told him it'd be alright. And she'd made it happen too.

“I'll see if I can scrape your hubby off the porcelain.”

“Thank you.”  


Clint made a lackadaisical gesture with his hand.

“Yeah yeah. Just don't get all...shouty with him, okay? I have no problem with putting an arrow through your dick if you get uppity but I bet Stark would guilt-complex himself into thinking you're one step from divorce faster than you can say 'pinion'. Just saying.”

Clint left before Steve could come up with a suitable reply to that.

* * *

Steve was not proud, okay, he was _not_ proud of the way he threw himself at Tony when he came in, completely ignoring the fact that his husband looked like he was about to pass out. But that didn't stop him from doing it.

Because Tony was the best husband in the world, he just manoeuvred them onto the bed and kept up the hugging instead of saying anything.

For about one minute. But then Steve had known that silence wouldn't be a huge thing in their marriage when he signed the license.

“So. You look like, uh, I don't know. Damn, I can't even come up with a good character to compare you to. That's a new low.”

“It's okay. I don't really want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

Steve got thirty more seconds of hugging out of Tony before all the wiggling made him let go. Tony's face immediately turned contrite.

“I'm sorry. It's just, ah. I don't know if I can touch them. And if I can't, well. I can't really hug you without touching any feathers.”

And that? That was what finally made Steve cry.

He spent an indeterminable amount of time just sobbing his heart out into his drawn-up knees, while Tony awkwardly patted his shoulder.

* * *

And that was how that had gone.

After he'd cried himself dry, Steve had spaced out for a while as several specialists – including a veterinarian the hospital had brought in to consult – ran about thrice as many tests on him as the Army scientists had back in the day that still only amounted to “you have wings now that we're still refusing to cut off” and then Steve had had to leave the room when a Doctor So-and-so started quoting the Hippocratic Oath at him least he hit someone.

“You want them to cut them off?”

“Don't start Tony.”

“I'm not, I'm just- Steve, these wings are completely healthy. You have sensation in them and a full range of movement and everything. That'd be like cutting off your arm.”

“They're not _healthy_! They are alien and disgusting!”

Steve took a breath to continue shouting, then nearly swallowed air when Tony said

“Okay.”

“What.”

Tony's sigh was weary and brittle.

“Look, I know that I'm not going to win this argument with you, because it took months of you sounding like a broken record for me to even show you my chest naked. So we're not gonna do the whole 'You are beautiful wings or no wings and I love you' spiel right now. Instead, we're going to go home and...I don't know. Do something to take your mind off it or something. At least feed you. You gotta be starving by now. Maybe figure out if your wings are shower-proof. I don't...shit, Steve, I don't know, okay? But I'm not forcing a camel through the eye of a needle right now trying to make you be okay with this. You're clearly not. So let's just go home for now, yeah?"

Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat.

He loved this man so much he could cry.


	3. Attitude Adjustment

[Steve - three days later]

He felt like crying. But he was also getting really sick of crying all the time.

Steve looked at the shirt again and debated just going out without one. But that felt like admitting defeat.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

"Hey, handsome."

Judging by how fast Tony pulled his hand back, he'd failed to be subtle about shrugging the touch off.

“So, what's the damage this time? I thought the shower went pretty well and last I checked you were smiling.”

Steve flinched, wings drawing in around him. They did that now sometimes, hide him when he was upset. He hated it. The last thing he wanted to see when he already felt like crap was the damned feathery freak show sprouting from his back.

“None of my shirts fit.”

Tony blinked at him slowly, lips twitching under his beard. It reminded Steve of a cat who'd suddenly been confronted with a mouse doing the hula. Amused, but also concerned.

“Alright. That's definitely a problem we can fix. I'll just get my tailor to make you something with slits in the back, maybe with-”

“No.”

Tony slow-blinked again.

“Okay. Not that I object to the idea of seeing you shirtless all the time but you do realise that you will eventually have to go places where a top is mandatory, right? Because I'm not dealing with people insinuating that I keep you tied to a bedpost or something.”

Steve sighed.

“You're right, you're right.”

Tony smiled.

"Hey, can you repeat that? I want to record it for posterity."

Steve pushed him off the bed.

Tony blinked up at him. Steve blinked back. Then they both burst out laughing.

“Oh my god! I did not push you that hard! I can't even push you as hard as normal right now! Tony!”

“I know! You surprised me!”

When they finally both calmed down, Steve felt happy for the first time since the attack of what the press had taken to calling “the Avians”.

He took a deep breath. He could do this!

_I did not survive seventy years in the ice to be beaten by extra limbs now._

“Tony, call your tailor. I'm going out.”

After a moment Steve amended

“Well. Probably not 'out out'. I don't think I want Captain Bird to be on the internet just yet. But...well at least with a shirt I could leave this room and not feel ridiculous.”

“' _Captain Bird_ '?”

Steve winced.

“Something that I _hope_ will eventually become an in-joke with Clint.”

“Uh-huh.” Tony stood up and clapped his hands. “Well. I'm going to call Ignacio and we'll get you into some -excuse the pun, I can't help it- pretty plumage and ready to face the world. Or at least the living room.”

Steve did his best to smile and look confident. ' _Fake it till you make it'_ and all that.

“Sounds good.”

He startled slightly when Tony paused in looking for his phone to come over and hug him.

“I'm really proud of you, _mio angelo_.”

Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat.

Screw any supersoldier serum. This was the most empowering thing in the world.

* * *

A few hours later Steve gave himself a once-over in the mirror.

Well. The wings were still there (obviously) but other than that... he looked good. Normal.

The shirt Mister Laflor had made for him actually looked really nice, if he ignored the reason that he got it.

Usually, he'd never shell out for bespoke clothing, but that didn't mean he couldn't admit that it really did make people look their best.

Steve met his own eyes in the mirror.

_Now you haven't got an excuse to mope in this room all day anymore._

Eyes up, back straight.

He finally felt ready to face the world.

Or at least a room full of people. He wasn't Captain America at the moment, just Steve Rogers. He could afford to just walk, not stride.


	4. One More Step Forward

[Tony]

Everyone was trying not to look at Steve without making it look like they were avoiding looking at Steve. It made Tony want to tear his hair out.

A group of bloody superheroes and they couldn't fucking make eye-contact with their friend because they were dealing with something unexpected. Hopefully, that never made it on the internet. Way to lose all credibility to the public.

It was impossibly awkward. Possibly even more awkward then the first time they'd all been in the tower together.

Tony looked at Clint, who looked to the side.

He wished Thor were here. Thor was immune to awkwardness. One of the perks of being Asgardian. Or maybe just a perk of being Thor.

“Alright!”

Steve's voice rang out loud through the room, making everyone turn to him. He fixed them all with a firm look before saying

“You get one minute each to make all the stupid bird-related jokes that you want. Sam and Clint each get two minutes, though I know that with Clint I'm going to regret that.”

Sam snorted. Clint too.

“Aw man, you really do love us.”

“It's actually really hard to come up with a good joke on a time limit.”

Everyone looked at Bruce, who shrugged eloquently.

“I'm just saying.”

A smile tugged at Steve's mouth.

“That's exactly why there _is_ a time limit."

And suddenly it wasn't awkward anymore.

_Steve's true superpower. Soldiering on despite all odds and making everyone feel at ease while he does it._

It was in that moment that Tony felt the fist that had slowly been crushing his heart since seeing Steve in the hospital, all anger and fear, let go for the first time. Looking at Steve laughing, surrounded by their friends, wings arching up high and cheerful behind his back.

Wings or now wings, supersoldier serum or no supersoldier serum, Steve would be alright. Because that had always been what separated Captain America from just a very strong man with an unbreakable shield, and Steve Rogers from just a duty-bound soldier.

Perseverance. The ability to always take just one more step forward, no matter how gruelling the path. To look to the future even when all you knew was the past.

_I wonder if you know how easy that makes you to love,_ mio angelo.

~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> The prompts I combined where “Steve is hurt during battle.”, “Steve wakes up with wings.” and “Tony taking care of Steve.”.
> 
> (I will be the first to admit that I failed at really integrating the third one but in the end real life sadly meant that I couldn't invest as much time as I wanted into this fic and had to leave several side-plots I came up with unexplored.)
> 
>  **A big “Thank you so much!” to:** _The Stony Loves Steve moderators_ for their endless patience in dealing with my posting troubles (it certainly wasn't their fault that this didn't go up until after the absolutely last deadline), _[DepressingGreenie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepressingGreenie/pseuds/DepressingGreenie)_ for their great prompts and last but certainly not least _[FestiveFerret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret)_ for being an absolute star and offering to beta this even if that didn't work out because of the aforementioned posting troubles.
> 
> You all rock.
> 
> Readers who leave comments also rock and make my day. :)


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